


Night Wares

by Sholio



Category: Luke Cage (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Gen, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 03:00:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21237035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/pseuds/Sholio
Summary: Misty drops by Tilda's shop on Halloween.





	Night Wares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meatball42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/gifts).

Despite the October chill in the air, the door of Mother's Touch stood open, spilling warmth, light, and spicy scents into the dark street. As Misty paused on the shop's threshold, a cluster of giggling children clutching small colorful bags brushed past her and ran out into the night. Misty raised an eyebrow, glanced at the OPEN 'TIL MIDNIGHT! sign in the window, and slipped inside. 

Something brushed her hair as she went in, and she looked up quickly to find a bundle of herbs dangling from the doorframe.

The store was busy for the late hour. There were people of all ages, from toddlers clinging to their parents' hands and trying to reach their tiny fists into the baskets of free candy, to old ladies browsing the herb displays.

Tilda, in a long emerald gown that swept the floor, turned around from the cash register, caught sight of Misty, and her welcoming-a-new-customer smile faded to a scowl. "Do you have a warrant, Detective?"

Misty held up a hand. "I'm just browsing."

"Mmm," was Tilda's skeptical reply. She watched Misty over her shoulder for a moment, before turning to measure out something dust-colored from a canister for the old man bent over her sales counter.

The store had a pleasant nose-tickling smell, even if it was hard for Misty to separate it from the memory of burnt gunpowder and blood. Something brushed by her ankle, and when she looked down, a cat curled past her leg, tail high and back arched. Somehow a cat seemed very appropriate on a night like this. 

"Where'd you come from?" Misty murmured, leaning down to pet the cat's ears. It was coal black with amber eyes, a good Halloween cat, and very soft. Also probably violating a city ordinance or two if Tilda kept it in the shop, but hell, she was a Metro detective, not a health inspector.

She straightened up and wandered through the store's displays, aware of Tilda not-so-subtly watching her. Not that she though Tilda was unwise enough to display anything visibly dangerous or illegal. Misty collected a handful of candies from the open bins, sniffed at them.

"Do you think I'd poison children, Detective?" Tilda had arrived suddenly at her shoulder. Up close, Misty could see that there were a hundred tiny sparkling green jewels woven into her hair to match the gown.

"I don't know what you're capable of," Misty said quietly, and very seriously.

Tilda huffed out a short breath. She hooked her silky arm into Misty's leather-clad one, and pulled her to the counter. "Come, Detective Knight," she murmured. "Do you know what I put out on nights like this, among the treats for the children and the salves for the old?"

"No," Misty said. "And it's Lieutenant Knight, these days."

"Protection," Tilda said. Her long brown hands worked busily, filling a small mesh bag. "Rosemary and chamomile, artemisia and sage ... This is a thin night, you know, when there are things that come too close to us, and must be warded off."

She turned around and pressed the small, sweet-smelling bag to Misty's chest. "For you, Detective." Her finger bent and thwacked the sachet, raising its spicy scent. "Take it back with you, when you go. There are things that walk the night much more fearsome than you."

All Misty could do was raise an eyebrow. "Thank you?"

Tilda gave another sharp huff and turned to help another customer. 

*

Misty looked up the herbs on her phone as soon as she was outside.

It seemed to be as Tilda had said. Most of what she'd mentioned were ordinary spices, and none seemed poisonous. Misty sniffed at the sachet, then tucked it into her pocket.

It did occur to her as she went up the street, with children dashing and giggling around her, that protection could work more than one way, and Tilda had, indeed, gotten Misty out of her shop with a simple application of herbs. Misty couldn't help smiling to herself.

"Guess it does work," she said, laughing quietly.

As she went back to her car, she thought she glimpsed a pair of eyes catch the light, amber as candle flames, low to the ground. Tilda's cat, watching her leave -- but when she looked around, there was nothing there.

And for the rest of the night shift, out of the corner of her eye, occasionally she thought she might have glimpsed a cat. Imagination, she knew. But still. Persuasive. Especially on a night like this, with the scent of herbs tickling her nose.


End file.
